Hermione's Secrets
by Nusakan
Summary: The time-line of events follows the HP plotlines broadly. However, I have taken liberties with the back-story and context, and added new plot lines... The story starts towards the end of Year 5. Harry and his friends have survived the showdown at the Ministry.
1. Hermione Who?

When I had finished the books I felt bereft! No more Harry. No more things to discover. Over the months after finishing the series I found myself idly inventing new plotlines that could be super-imposed on the existing ones and expanding on the background stories and history of the events. Nothing that changed anything fundamental - just new angles, new ideas, new characters. I then stumbled on FanFiction and found a whole website devoted to weirdos like me who just can't let go!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter! The stories and characters belong to the incomparable JK Rowling.

**Chapter 1: Hermione Who?**

Harry was in the Gryffindor common room wearily filling out star charts for his astronomy homework. It was nearly 3am. He and Ron had spent all evening ignoring their potions essay, expecting that Hermione would show up sooner or later and let them copy hers. She often refused to help Harry but somehow always relented in the end when it was Ron's neck on the line.

"She'll enjoy a bit of eye rolling and lecturing first, then she'll give in, mate' Ron had predicted cheerfully.

"She made me do my own History of Magic essay. I begged her for hours but she flatly refused" said Harry.

"You've just got to know how to win her round" Ron smirked. "You made the mistake of playing the friendship card which let her lecture you on how making you do your own homework is in your best interests. A bit of well timed flattery is far more effective. It's the only potions praise she ever gets."

Harry saw the logic of this. Besides the Gryffindor vs Slytherin grudge match was coming up at the weekend and discussing team tactics was a far more enticing prospect than a dreary essay on the toxicology of the Botein Bellied Toadstool.

They passed a couple of happy hours dreaming of Gryffindor Glory and Sltheryin Annihilation, with a few broken limb fantasies thrown in but finally the boys fell silent as they realised it was now 11pm and there was still no sign of Hermione.

"Where on earth can she be' said Harry beginning to feel a little worried.

"Probably still in the library researching a few extra rolls worth of boring, pointless facts' said Ron viciously. "I'm too tired to start this now. I'll have to get up early." With that he stomped off to bed in a temper.

Harry watched him go, thinking, not for the first time, that his best mate could frankly be a bit of a git. He then pulled out his parchment resigning himself to a few tedious hours in the company of toxic toadstools. Followed by dull star charting. Which still left the unfinished history of magic essay. He really had tried to get that one done but had kept falling asleep while writing to wake up with a crick in his neck and a pool of drool smudging his work. He'd be doing homework till dawn he realised. But he had no intention of going to bed until he knew Hermione was safe so he might as well kill time doing something useful.

As the minutes stretched to hours the tension and anxiety slowly increased. Where _was_ she? If he had any idea where to begin, he would go off looking for her. But there was no point. She could be anywhere. He had looked at the Marauder's Map time and time again in the past few hours, hoping to see her name, but she did not even appear to be in the castle. But surely that was impossible?

But then Hermione had suddenly begun to do all sorts of things he had not considered possible. Apparate for example. Her suddenly revealed ability to apparate at the tender age of 15 had saved his skin at a recent Hogsmeade trip. One second he was enjoying a Florean Fortescue Fudge Sundae, the next he had seen none other than Bellatrix Lestrange bearing down on him – her face crazed with rage, wand up and clearly intent on murder and mayhem. A split second later he was apparating with the vice-like grip of Hermione on encircling his wrist. They landed in a heap outside the walls of the castle.

"what the hell-" he spluttered.

"I know I mean what was she doing in Hogsmeade" shrieked Hermione, her face red and flustered.

"Not her. YOU!" Harry roared. "How can you apparate?"

"Oh, well" Hermione fell silent. Then rapidly began to speak:

"Look just because it's only legal from 17 doesn't mean younger people can't do it. Plenty of muggle 10 years old's can drive cars. And after all you can cast a corporeal Patronus. How many adults can't do that?".

"Fine, so it's technically possible. But Hermione it's illegal. Apparating under-age would definitely get you expelled, and quite possibly arrested!"

"I used time turners in our third year. We all broke the rules with the DA didn't we? I risked arrest searching Umbridge's office. I broke into the Ministry of Magic for goodness sake!"

"But, but..." She was doing it again. Twisting him in knots. Confusing him. Everything she said sounded reasonable. Hermione had never shied away from protecting him, no matter what the risks or costs to her. But somehow that didn't seem the same as -

"Look I like learning things," she continued interrupting his protests. "So I learnt to apparate this year. So what? If I know about a type of magic I want to be able to do it... And I didn't tell you & Ron because you'd just pester me all the time to teach you and I can't be bothered" she had suddenly added nastily."Between writing your essays & researching your star signs I don't have spare time left over to teach you apparition." And she stalked off, leaving Harry bewildered. It was certainly true that she could do advanced magic. After all she was using Newt Level Protean charms at 14. But risk expulsion? Or even arrest? Just out of a desire to learn? It just seemed utterly unlike her.

As he remembered that odd episode, he also considered the fact that Hermione had developed a bit of a habit of disappearing lately. Somehow she always had a vaguely credible explanation but Harry got the distinct feeling that she was hiding things from him. Just like everyone else. A surge of anger flooded him suddenly. No-one was EVER straight with him. No-one EVER told him the truth. He had been manipulated, lied to and kept in the dark all his life. Was one of his closest friends joining in with the general 'Don't Tell Harry' conspiracy?

It was no good, he couldn't concentrate. He got to his feet and began pacing in worry and frustration. As the clock chimed 3 the portrait swung open and Hermione tumbled in. She did not see Harry at first. She was breathing heavily, her hair was wild and she had clearly been crying.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" exclaimed Harry

"She swung round and met his eyes. She was wide-eyed, looked horrified & seemed unable to speak.

"Hermione? _Hermione_?"

Finally she seemed to come to herself. She gave him a small smile of acknowledgement then looked to the floor, her eyes filling with tears again.

Harry rushed forwards and put his arms around her. She was freezing. He guided her to a chair by the fire which he had kept alight through the long night. He knelt next to her, stroking her hair, waiting for her to speak.

Finally Hermione quietly said "I'm tired. I'm going to bed".

"But what's happened?" Harry said. "What's wrong"

She seemed to be struggling with herself. For a while it seemed she was not going to tell him anything. But suddenly she spoke: "I found out tonight that my father is dying".

"Your father? Oh Hermione, that's terrible. What's wrong with him?"

Again Hermione was silent, apparently in the grip of an internal struggle. Appearing to come to a decision, she began to speak.

"Harry, there are things about me you don't know," she said falteringly.

Harry stayed silent wrestling with competing emotions. The loss of a father was a terrible thing. He of all people understood that. So his heart went out to her. But at the same time, here was the proof of what he had long suspected. Not even his closest ally and confidante, his trusted friend, had been honest with him. Even she had concealed things from him.

She took his silence as permission to continue. Taking a deep breath she went on:

" Harry, I am not muggle born."

"What!" Harry shouted, his sympathy for her grief forgotten in the fury of realising that this most basic truth about her was in fact untrue. She had told him she was muggle born at aged 11. She had lied all along from the very beginning. But why? WHY?

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm _sorry_. I was told I mustn't ever tell anyone who my parents are. I was told I would come to Hogwarts claiming to be muggle born. Harry it wasn't YOU I was lying to, it was everyone. I was 11. I was used to secrecy. It is all I've known."

"You and me both" muttered Harry.

"It was all I'd ever known" Hermione repeated. "I never saw it as a betrayal. I just saw it as a fact of life."

"Great way to live" remarked Harry bitterly. "Glad you never lost sleep over it".

"Lying is a way of life for all witches and wizards" retorted Hermione with a surge of spirit.

"We lie to the entire non-magical population. We _marry_ muggles before we tell them who and what we are. If they object – as many do - we modify their memories leaving them bewildered and confused. We routinely subject muggles to memory charms and other abuses to protect our way of life. Do we tell our muggle friends at primary school who we truly are. No! We lie. And when they tell teachers they saw us making flowers fly or turning slugs into cigars we let them get punished for making up stories."

"We do that because it's necessary" said Harry, uncertainly, suddenly aware for the first time that there really was something a bit dodgy about some of the implications of the secrecy statutes.

"Exactly!" cried Hermione impatiently. "I was brought up believing that pretending to be muggle born was necessary. And it WAS necessary!" It still IS necessary, so if you intend to get all whiter than white about it and blab to others, I'll have to do a bit of memory modifying myself!"

Harry fell silent. He was still stunned by this revelation, startled by Hermione's ferocity and pretty angry that she was actually _threatening_ him. But he also felt the prickling of shame. How well he remembered his own miserable childhood: the fear on the faces of other children & the anger on the faces of teachers when magic burst out of him. His bizarre haircut. His impossible leap onto the roof of buildings when he was being chased. Treated like a freak, an abnormality, a child to be shunned and feared. He had never considered the situation in reverse: muggle children frightened by uncontrolled magic. Why had he never considered this? After all, he had seen his Aunt Petunia's distress at the magical antics of her younger sister in the pensieve. And that was just innocent magic by a playful child. What would thugs like Crabbe and Goyle do to their muggle classmates when they realised they had powers that no-one else had? And, even worse, that no-one would believe the other children if they told.

"Go on" he said, quietly.

Hermione sighed.

"I lie. I have grown up lying. I hate myself for it but I can see no other option. And it is so easy to deceive because no-one ever suspects. Sometimes I wish people would wake up to it. But to be honest I am constantly astonished by how easy people are to control and manipulate. You grew up with muggles. They have democracy. We live in a dictatorship. Our news is controlled. Our leaders appointed not elected. Hasn't that ever bothered you?"

"No" said Harry entirely truthfully. When he saw what a mess muggles made of things, he couldn't really see that it was any worse under the Ministry of Magic. Not that he had ever given it any thought, anyway.

"So it's ok with you, that Umbridge still has power in the ministry? That she was never held to account for what she did at Hogwarts" Hermione asked softly.

Harry was startled. No that wasn't right. Of course it wasn't.

"But she was investigated, disciplined wasn't she" he said.

"Yes and she got a slap on the wrist for going a bit far! _A bit far_!" Hermione exclaimed impatiently. "Don't you realise that the ministry view is there is nothing fundamentally wrong with what she did. That it's basically ok to repeatedly change laws at the drop of a hat to grant yourself more power and to deprive other people of their rights and freedoms. As long as you don't go too far with it..."

Again Harry was lost for words. He had never considered how his world was structured. He had just accepted things as they were. "I've just never really thought about it" he said.

"Well that's deliberate too" said Hermione grimly. Her eye caught his History of Magic essay.

"Finding your homework stimulating? Is it prompting you to go and research the area in more detail? Triggering heated debates among your classmates?" she queried sarcastically.

"Course, not. It's history of magic. Who has any interest in that?"

"What's the essay about?"

Harry struggled to even remember.

"Erm, the revolutions of the someone-or other and the development of the thingy charters and the, er... It's an essay on Chapter 7, paragraphs 22-35" he finished lamely.

Otherwise known as "The Liberty Revolutions and the Great Suppression." Said Hermione. "A violent war in which wizards demanding freedom from the authoritarian role of the Ministry drew up the Great Charter of the Liberties of The Forest in 1378. They were ruthlessly hunted down and killed. Challenging ministry authority became and remains a crime punishable by life-time imprisonment in Azkaban or death. It is still legal to use unforgiveable curses on people suspected of treason. Umbridge was willing to use the Cruciatus curse on you – a schoolboy – because 'ministry security' was at stake."

"Well why hasn't Binns taught us that then?"

"He has, you idiot" said Hermione. "You are currently writing an essay on it for goodness sake. But he teaches in a way that ensures no-one has any real clue about the meaning of what he is saying, no-one remembers and most importantly, no-one cares!"

"I guess he is a bit boring, but -"

"A bit boring! Harry, he has been teaching in the same monotonous drone, using the same dreary text book in the same stuffy overheated classroom for over 300 years! By the way, you may be interested to know that the text book is the only one published covering the history of magic and has been translated into 376 languages. And it sends school-kids to sleep in all of them!"

Harry fell silent yet again, considering what Hermione was saying. It was certainly true that he had sometimes been vaguely aware that subjects like the Giant Wars and the Goblin Uprisings might be more interesting with a better teacher. It was also true that he had never bothered reading up on the history himself.

"But why? I don't get it. What's the point of making a subject as boring as possible?"

"The ministry doesn't want another revolution. They tried banning the subject but you saw what happened to the Quibbler when they banned the copy carrying your interview. So 300 years ago they came up with a much better plan. Teach it – in fact make it compulsory – but do it in a way that stultifies, deadens and bores. Can you really see Binns and his tedious text- book inspiring revolution?"

Harry eyed Hermione suspiciously. "So you're telling me you are a secret revolutionary. With secret revolutionary parents."

Hermione gave a snort. "No. Not even close. I am as brainwashed as the rest of you."

"So how do you know all this?"

"I_ think_" she snapped.

"Well it's all very interesting but what's it got to do with you not being muggle-born?"

"Nothing directly. I am just trying to explain that secrets, half-truths, manipulation and lies are the witch and wizard way". She hesitated, then added, "and the closer you are to the heart of things, the more you see that. The more you believe it is necessary. The more you accept it." Hermione looked back to the floor. "I should not be telling you this. I should not be telling you _anything_."

Harry was burning with curiosity. If Hermione wasn't muggle born, who exactly was she?

To be continued...


	2. The Wrath Of Snape

**The Wrath Of Snape**

Hermione was hunched in an armchair looking utterly wretched and exhausted. Harry was sitting back on his heels, looking at her, his head spinning. Hermione was not muggle born. She had lived a life of secrets and lies. He was desperate to know more but Hermione had fallen silent again.

"Harry I've had a terrible shock tonight. I will tell you about my parents. But not now."

"just need a bit of time to figure out a good cover story?" guessed Harry, acidly. Hermione glanced sharply at him. This had been exactly what she had in mind, but she was too tired to think straight. Too scared of saying something dangerous. Dangerous to Harry, to The Plan, to everyone.

"My father is dying!" she said in distress. "I'm exhausted and worried and upset and I can't deal with you feeling hard done by on top of everything else!"

"I'm sorry, I really am. But don't you want to talk about him? Don't you want to honour him by being honest about him instead of pretending he's a muggle dentist".

"Yes" Hermione whispered. "I do want to tell you about him. He's devoted his life to you. He does deserve to be honoured for that."

"To me?" Harry was astounded. "What's your dad got to do with me?"

"Tomorrow" said Hermione firmly. "I'm going to bed. Tomorrow we can talk. Meet me at the astronomy tower at 6pm. Ron'll be in detention for failing to hand in his potions essay."

"He's getting up early to do it" said Harry.

"Not if you cancel his animus charm."

"Isn't that a bit mean? Why can't you tell us both?"

"No, said Hermione firmly. "I think you have a right to know – you can tell Ron another time if you like, but this is between us for now."And with that Harry had to be satisfied.

He tiredly climbed the stairs to his bed and dragged his robes off. _Silentii _he murmured over Ron's wand cancelling his 5 am wake up chime. He felt guilty as he knew he was subjecting Ron to several deeply unpleasant hours of detention with Snape. But he needed to find out whatever it was that Hermione had been keeping from him. He lay down but he was too wound up to sleep. Questions buzzed around his head like trapped flies. Hermione was not muggle born. Her dad had devoted his life to him – Harry. He'd never even met him! A flicker of fear entered him. Had Hermione's father died trying to protect Harry? But protect him from what? From who? He finally fell into a fitful sleep to be woken what seemed like just moments later by a bellow of rage from Ron:

"Bloody useless bloody pointless lump of bloody wood" he was shouting at his wand.

"Wassup" muttered Harry keeping his eyes closed in case Ron could read the guilty expression in them. But Ron was staring in disgust at his wand.

"Animus charm failed" he snarled.

"Bummer" said Harry.

"Too bloody right. It's double potions this morning. I haven't even started my essay. Snape's going to murder me." He paused. "You haven't done yours either have you? At least we can do detention together," he said looking marginally more happy.

"Did it last night" confessed Harry.

"Bloody swot," swore Ron. "So just me, then, to face Snape's sarcasm.

"You could have done it too you know" said Harry suddenly exasperated. After all, Harry had had more detentions with Snape this year than anyone else. Not to mention private occlumency lessons which were even worse than detention in his view. Snape inside his head. Urghh. It felt like a total violation. And it had been even worse when he had seen inside Snape's own mind. Minds should be private, he thought with a shudder.

Ron grumpily got up and pulled on his robes. "I'm going to breakfast. He announced. If I have to face Snape I need to keep my strength up".

"Hermione's alive by the way" yelled Harry angrily after the retreating back of Ron. He wasn't hungry. He lay in bed and dozed off again until he was unceremoniously poked in the ear by a cross house-elf who had been instructed to clean the dorm between 8:50 and 9:00 am every day.

"Students is not supposed to be in bed, sir" the house elf scolded. "I is supposed to be making bed. I cannot make bed with student lying in bed. Students is supposed to be eating breakfast then going to lessons."

"I'm not hungry" mumbled Harry.

"If students is sick students is supposed to go to the hospital wing. Now I is late. You has made me disobeying orders"

"Oh no!" Harry knew what was coming next as the elf ran to the door and bashed his head against it. He leapt out of bed. "I'm out, I'm going! You can make the bed" he shouted. The elf scurried over and began pulling sheets straight.

Harry pulled on his robes and hurried to the dungeons, dreading what he knew was coming next. Oh well, being a few minutes late, might mean some of the flak heading for Ron would be deflected, he reflected. As a tactic it was effective but within seconds of entering the dungeons Harry bitterly regretted it.

"Good afternoon Potter" sneered Snape silkily as he hurried in. "May we begin or do you need a few more minutes to attend to your dress"?

A burst of laughter broke out. Harry was perplexed. Hermione muttered a quiet incantation. Snape blocked it with a dismissive flick of his wand.

"Oh I don't think so Miss Granger" he said. "If our very own Chosen One ha s decided to start a new fashion trend, we should applaud his – er - _uniqueness_. Perhaps he doesn't feel he gets quite enough attention yet?"

The laughter died away suddenly at Snape's words and a hush fell over the class. The Daily Prophet had been calling Harry the Chosen One since the night of the lost prophecy, but no teacher had ever alluded to it, and Harry himself had refused point blank to discuss it. Even with Ron & Hermione.

Harry ignored the curious stares of his classmates. He glanced down at his robes trying to figure out what Snape meant by his unique sense of fashion. A crimson flush scorched his cheeks. He was still wearing his pyjamas. And they were clearly visible under his threadbare and rather too small robes. Even worse they had been given to him by Mrs Weasley and had a large fluffy teddy printed on the front. He had resolved never ever to wear them but in his exhaustion the previous night he had just pulled on the first things to hand without looking at it. He remembered he had been showing them to Ron during a 'worst item of clothing ever bought for me' contest a few days before. He had won, comfortably. Much as he loved Molly Weasley, she really did have terrible taste when it came to clothes.

But even stronger than his embarrassment was a fierce burning anger. How dare Snape taunt him about being the Chosen One. Harry knew that behind those heroic sounding words lay the grim reality that his life was inevitably marked by death. He would have to kill Voldemort or be killed by him. He had been haunted by that awareness ever since that conversation with Dumbledore after the prophecy had been smashed. He was so appalled by what the prophecy revealed that he couldn't face telling even Ron & Hermione. Much like when he was being sadistically tortured by Umbridge, he could not face the looks of horrified pity on the faces of his friends.

And how DARE Snape accuse him of courting attention. Snape had spent enough time delving around inside Harry's head to know how much he hated his role in the spotlight. How much he longed for a normal existence. He kept his eyes down, clutched his robe across his chest to cover his pyjamas and refused to respond.

But Snape was not done with him. A blazing anger seemed to emanate from him. Loathing was etched on every feature of his face as he stood in front of Harry staring down at the top of his head.

"Look at me when I am addressing you, Potter" he snarled.

Green eyes met black as Harry unwillingly raised his head, commanding himself not to speak out, not to lose his temper.

"Why are you late?" Snape demanded.

"I overslept, sir" Harry replied calmly.

"Surely your fan club woke you up? Breakfast in bed for Precious Potter?"

"No, sir" said Harry refusing to rise.

"Well I would give you a detention but I'm sure you have newspaper interviews lined up."

The class giggled.

"No sir," repeated Harry face burning with hatred as well as anger and embarrassment now. He knew Snape hated him. Hated all Gryffindors, even those like Hermione who were polite, well behaved and hard working. But he realised with a sudden jolt this that was deeply, horribly personal. Snape loathed Harry beyond all reason, beyond all logic. And Harry also knew why. He had seen his father bully Snape. Seen him humiliate Snape in front of everyone in the pensieve. He was not his father, he would never behave like that. But he knew, as he stared into those cold, hard eyes, that for Snape he was forever the son of James Potter – the man who made Snape's life a living hell.

"Next time you are late, Potter, don't bother coming at all" Snape hissed. "Much as you believe the world revolves round you, much as your faithful public adores you, to me you are still just an arrogant child with an over-large ego. "

He strode back to the front of the class shouting "_accio_ essays" . Rolls of parchment flew towards him from all the students. All except Ron. He had been horrified by Snape's foul treatment of Harry and now quaked as those cruel back eyes sought him out. Harry stared into his lap, dreading what was coming. He glanced across to Hermione and saw that she too was looking down, white faced, blinking away furious tears.

"Mr Weasley, where is your essay" Snape barked.

"Umm, I er"

"Very articulate, Mr Weasley. I take it that you don't write Potter's public speeches for him, then"

"No, sir" squeaked Ron.

"That job probably goes to our dear little know-it-all Miss Granger. Never lost for a word or 300 is she?"

"Yes, I mean no, sir" stammered Ron.

"So your job is the devoted idiot side-kick is it?"

Harry couldn't believe it. Even when it was Ron who had failed to write his essay, Snape was still taunting Harry.

"Don't rise, don't rise don't react" he muttered fiercely to himself.

"Practicing for your next public appearance are you, Potter" roared Snape spinning round. "Get out. OUT."

Harry grabbed his books and fled, deciding that his potions education was suddenly coming to a premature end. He was not going back into the dungeon, ever again. And from what he could tell, Snape didn't want him there any more than he wanted to be there. So he probably wouldn't even get into trouble for never showing up to classes again.

Ron & Hermione caught up with him later that morning,

"What the bloody hell was up with Snape this morning" Ron said, "I mean he's normally a foul, slimy git but today – it was like he wanted to kill you."

"He hates me" said Harry flatly. "And I hate him. So let's not waste any more time on him. What did he do about your essay?"

Ron pulled a face.

"Detention tonight. And the essay now needs to be double the length. 4 rolls of parchment! I'll be doing this essay for the rest of term".

"I'll help you, Ron" said Hermione quietly. She was still very pale.

"Hermione you're a diamond" said Ron in relief.

"I just can't bear another scene like that" she said. "Oh Harry, he was so bitter and angry. I am so sorry".

"Yeah well I'm used to it". Harry said. "Thank God for quidditch practice this afternoon. I am in serious need of some broom time!"

Harry channelled all his rage and hatred into practice, flying with dangerous recklessness that was as alarming as it was effective. He was catching the snitch quicker than he had ever managed before, flying lower to the ground, accelerating faster, banking more steeply and performing high speed aerial manoeuvres that had Ron as keeper hardly able to bear to watch.

"Great playing Harry" said Angelina beaming as they walked off the pitch a couple of exhilarating hour later. "But try and stay alive till the match is over, eh".

"If Harry keeps playing like that he won't need Snape to kill him" Ron muttered to Fred and George as they walked back to the changing rooms.

"Hey Harry. You might want to stop playing so safe y'know" laughed Fred. "You should take practice more seriously. No use pussy footing about when there are matches to train for!"

Harry laughed, feeling lighter and happier than he had for days. Especially when he saw Draco and his team mates looking as if they had been sucking lemons as they trudged away from the training ground where they had been spying on practice.

As soon as Ron had set off for detention, Harry rushed over to the astronomy tower. He could not begin to imagine what Hermione was going to tell him and was desperate to find out. However her tortured expression when she had reappeared last night, and her pale drawn face suggested that whatever it was, it was not going to be particularly good news.


	3. The Unseen

Hermione was already at the top of the tower looking out over the Hogwart's Grounds. She could see Hagrid out in his pumpkin patch enjoying the evening sunshine. But the tower itself was in shadow, which suited her aprehensive mood.

"Hi Harry" she said without looking round as she heard his footsteps.

"Hi" replied Harry. They were uncharacteristically nervous in each other's company. Hermione was terrified of what she had started. Harry was burning with curiosity about what she might tell him. Neither seemed to know how to start the conversation.

They then both started speaking together.

"I don't know-"

"Where do you-"

They stopped.

"You first," said Harry.

"I was just going to say I don't know where to start," said Hermione.

"I was about to ask where you wanted to begin," replied Harry with a small smile.

"OK," Hermione took a deep breath. "Let's start with Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?" echoed Harry surprised.

"Well most things seem start – and end - with him it seems," said Hermione a little bitterly.

"As you know Dumbledore founded the Order of The Phoenix when You Know Who was gaining power. It was a_ secret_ organisation. Not answerable to anyone. Certainly not to the Ministry. Although Aurors joined, they were mainly there to act as spies within the Ministry and to prevent You Know Who's supporters from imperiusing too many officials. The Auror Office – who are meant to be the specialists in catching Dark Wizards -didn't even know about the Order until years after it had been running. Even now the Ministry won't officially admit the Order exists and does not know who is in it. That is why Fudge and Dumbledore have such a difficult relationship. The Ministry has always been deeply concerned about a secret society with powerful witches and wizards operating totally outside Ministerial control."

"No wonder Fudge blew a gasket when he found out about Dumbledore's Army," said Harry quietly.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "And he is right to fear Dumbledore's desire for power -"

"Dumbledore doesn't want to be Minister for Magic," interrupted Harry hotly.

"I said _power_!" retorted Hermione. "Dumbledore may not want a senior Ministry Job with rules, and regulations and codes of conduct! But he certainly wants power and control! Head-master of his own empire. Commander In Chief of his own Secret Society whose members place loyalty to him far above loyalty to the Ministry."

"You sound as paranoid as Fudge!" said Harry coldly. He trusted Dumbledore. And he had no love at all for the Ministry. So what if Dumbledore operated outside their control? That was the only way things ever got done! And he, Harry, was also a damn sight more loyal to Dumbledore than he ever would be to Fudge.

"If people are loyal to him it is because he inspires it, earns it, deserves it!"

Hermione sighed. "We are getting off track. I agree Dumbledore is inspirational. After all, that is why my family have worked for him – and only him – all these years." She suddenly looked close to tears again. Then continued quietly. "But he sometimes exacts terrible payment from those who serve him."

"Your parents are in the Order?" exclaimed Harry. "Who?"

"Harry you don't know everyone in the order!" said Hermione. You have met one small chapter of the Order. There are other chapters all over the country and even the world. And with Dumbledore in charge it shouldn't surprise you to know that secrecy is a big part of how things operate. There is a secret chapter within the Order that very few people know about. The people in it were hand-picked, usually very young. Barely of age at times. They operate deep under-cover and their missions can last years. Their role during the First War was to infiltrate You Know Who's army. They were called The Unseen."

"And your parents were part of The Unseen ?" said Harry quietly.

"Yes" said Hermione. "They weren't married. They weren't even together. But my dad was doing something extraordinarily dangerous. My mum was assisting him. They both had a very narrow escape one night, and what with all the adrenaline, with the sense of a fore-shortened future people get in war-time, well one thing led to another..."

Which led to you," finished Harry.

"Exactly. And Dumbledore was not impressed to say the least. Romance, families. These are not part of the role of The Unseen."

"So what happened next?"

"Well dad just carried on. He was still under-cover and he never publically acknowledged me. Dumbledore didn't even want him to tell me who he was. Would have preferred it for mum to make up some lie about my dad being killed, or not interested in me. But my dad refused. He insisted I grew up knowing who he was and to make sure I knew I had a father who loved me. I'll never forgive Dumbledore for trying to take that away from me. Even though I can see why it made sense from a security point of view. Expecting little kids to keep secrets is not wise. But I guess I had good teachers in that regard."

"What about your mum," asked Harry.

"She retired to focus on bringing me up. That was until one night when Voldemort murdered Lily & James Potter, and failed to murder you." Hermione fell silent.

"Go on" demanded Harry. His thoughts were whirling. Would he finally find out more about what happened that terrible night so long ago."

"Harry, you were the Boy Who Lived. Most people thought Voldemort was gone. Even Order members thought he was finished . Dumbledore did nothing to dissuade them from this fantasy. He allowed the Order to disband. But he knew Voldemort was still out there. And The Unseen knew it too. So their work continued."

"How did Dumbledore know Voldemorte had survived?"

"I don't know" Hermione admitted. "But I do know that it was because of you that the work had to carry on. Somehow Dumbledore understood not just that Voldemorte would return to power one day, but also that you were the key to his defeat. Only you."

Harry felt a physical pain in his stomach. The Prophecy. Neither can live while the other survives. Dumbledore knew that Harry had to kill Voldemorte, or die trying. Had always known.

"I know how he knew" he said dully. "It was the prophecy." Harry explained what he had heard in Dumbledore's office when they had returned from the Ministry. It was a relief to finally be able to share this terrible burden. Hermione, with her usual attention to detail made Harry repeat the precise wording several times. Something seemed to be puzzling her.

"But why –" she broke off suddenly, eyes wide, colour draining from her face.

"Say it again," she whispered. Harry repeated those words that were carved on his brain:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have powers the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._

Hermione listened carefully her face showing no emotion. "I see" she said quietly when he had finished..

"See what" demanded Harry. She shook her head impatiently. "Never mind. It basically makes sense: you and only you can destroy Voldemort. So protecting you became Dumbledore's, and therefore The Unseen's top priority."

"Glad it makes sense to you," said Harry hotly. "Sounds like a load of old cobblers to me! What great powers have I got?"

"Oh Harry," Hermione said half laughing. "I don't know how or why, but don't you see, that somehow love, courage and loyalty will end him. As the Centaurs would say: it is written in the stars. Your mum's sacrifice saved you and continues to protect you. Voldemort's right hand man owes his life to you. Fawkes came to you. The sword appeared for you. Let go of Voldemort's childish notions of power and just trust that you will have what you need when you need it. This time the war won't be about spells or wands, but about hearts and souls".

"You are using Voldemort's name" said Harry slowly. "I've only just noticed."

"Oh, yes. Using the name kind of singles you out as someone who is part of the fight against him, so it's better not to really. But all this You Know Who nonsense gets irritating after a while."

Harry reflected on all the times Hermione had shrieked, winced or flinched when he had used Voldemort's name and had to concede that despite being only 15 she was a very good actress. He had thought he knew her so well. Clearly not. And it was also clear she was still keeping secrets. What had Hermione learned from the prophecy that she – infuriatingly – seemed unwilling to share. Who were her parents? And what role did The Unseen have in the shadows of his life?

"What do you mean The Unseen made my protection their highest priority? Dumbledore said I WAS protected as long as I could still call Privet Drive my home."

Hermione gave a sigh. "Dumbledore says a lot of things" she said. "So how did the Dementors get near you, in Little Whingeing, then?"

"Well I wasn't at home, then –" said Harry stopping suddenly as he considered the hundreds, no thousands of times he was not actually in the house. Going to school for one! Had he been vulnerable all the time? Even while growing up?

"Are you beginning to understand" said Hermione quietly. "Your life has been public property since Voldemort failed to kill you. Keeping you alive till you are old enough to take him on has been Dumbledore's Grand Plan for years. _Years_. Of course you weren't free to roam around alone."

"But, you mean, well then" spluttered Harry, a bubbling resentment and anger rising up as the implications of what she was saying began to sink in..

Hermione seemed to understand:

"Yes. Dumbledore knew about everywhere you ever went, everyone you ever knew, every trip to the supermarket, every mowed lawn, every washed car, every school-day, every move you ever made."

Harry felt sick. His whole life laid bare to unseen, unknown others. So he had been seen crying behind the bike sheds at school. He been watched trying and singularly failing to make any friends. Had been spied on as he sat alone on the playgrounds swings dreaming of one day being visible. The irony! He had felt as though he was entirely invisible to everyone, ignored, un-noticed. And all the time...

He started pacing as the force of Dumbledore's betrayal hit home in a different way.

"He knew how miserable I was, how alone and wretched -"

"-and he did nothing about it" Hermione finished. "The Unseen were to observe and protect. NOT to intervene."

"But nothing ever did happen" said Harry. "Pretty boring mission. Spying on a sad runty little kid for years on end".

"Harry your life was saved more times by more people than you would ever believe," said Hermione softly. "The Unseen were under-cover, not invisible. You knew some of them. You just did not know who they were".

"Who," demanded Harry.

"Who saved you from the Dementors," Hermione asked.

"I saved myself!" Harry said indignantly.

"Yes, you were magnificent. But it just so happens that if you hadn't been able to cast a Patronus then someone else was there. Weren't they."

"Only that batty squib, Mrs Figg" said Harry.

"She's no squib," stated Hermione.

"She can't be one of the Unseen. Surely. They said there were no witches living in Little Whingeing at my Ministry Hearing.

"She is UNDER-COVER. That's the whole point. Of course she isn't registered. Mrs Figg – who is of course, not really called that – is a highly trained witch and member of The Unseen. My mother is too. She lives as a muggle in a village near yours. Her whole life since the failed attempt on you has been to integrate herself into muggle culture to be able to keep a close eye on you."

Harry clenched his fists as fresh anger surged through him. He felt utterly violated. His whole life. His WHOLE life. Memories flooded through him of how he was shunned by classmates and teachers who feared his strangeness, and who feared Mr Dursley even more so were only too happy to 'come down hard on the boy' as they had so often been ordered to do. Of taunts and abuse from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon about his useless layabout parents killed in a drunken car-crash. Of the many times he had escaped the misery of Dudley's pinches and kicks to the privacy of a den in the woods, a hole in a tree, a cave by a river bank. Private secret places to hide away and be alone. Only he wasn't alone. Ever. It was too much to take in.

Then he recalled Dumbledore's tears as he shared the dreadful news of the prophecy. 'Love' he had said. 'Love'. He needed to hang on to that. Dumbledore cared for him. _Loved _him. He would not, could not believe that Dumbledore had allowed 11 years of abuse without taking any action. A letter to Aunt Petunia. A visit. Warnings. Placing someone from The Unseen in his school perhaps to befriend him and ease his loneliness and confusion.

"I don't believe you" he said, flatly. "Maybe I have been watched by The Order since Voldemort's return. But I have not been watched since I was a year old. I'd know. And Dumbledore DID intervene. He sent Aunt Petunia a Howler."

Something seemed to snap inside Hermione.

"You are BLIND!" she shouted. "That_ bloody_ man demands blind loyalty. No matter what the risks or costs. Never even explaining WHY! He sent the Howler to protect you. The Unseen were allowed to act to keep you safe. Only for that. And Dumbledore only ordered that because he needs you. We all need you."

Harry stared, stunned by the ferocity on her face as much as her swearing. But she wasn't finished:

"Don't you remember what Dobby said in our second year. He said Harry Potter is too important to risk going back to Hogwarts. Too important. How does a house-elf know how important you are. That was years before Voldemort's return. A LOT of people have been involved in keeping you alive all these years ."

"I don't believe you" yelled Harry. "You're just guessing. You don't know these things. You can't know them. How do you know anything about anything anyway!"

Hermione took a deep breath and struggling to keep her voice steady she said "The Unseen work under-cover. Deep under-cover. My father was ordered by Dumbledore to become a Deatheater when he was still at Hogwarts. He was still just a boy! Not even 18!"

"No way" gasped Harry revolted. "Enough. I've had enough. Just SHUT UP about Dumbledore!"

"Don't you dare minimise my father's sacrifice out of your loyalty to that man" yelled Hermione. My dad became a death-eater and has been one ever since, spying for Dumbledore while carrying out Voldemort's orders. He has killed for Voldemort. Dumbledore told him to avoid it where possible but NOT at the expense of exposure. Because exposure threatens The Grand Plan. He has lost any shred of any kind of a life worth living because of his role as spy in The Unseen. All out of loyalty to Dumbledore. All for The Plan. And now he is dying. He has been cursed while carrying out a dangerous attack or Voldemort. It is incurable. He will be dead very soon. Because of Dumbledore. All because of Dumbledore." Hermione finally broke down, slumping to the floor weeping.

Harry was trying not to listen, trying not to believe Hermione, but questions were now slamming into him with the force of a truck. How had Dumbledore known about Aunt Petunia's threat to kick him out? Hey had been talking in the house at the time. That wasn't 'Guard Duty' that was a whole different level of appallingly intrusive surveillance. Why did Dobby think of Harry as 'too important?'. Another horrific question suddenly occurred to him: why was the prophecy so important that Order Members were ordered to die if necessary to protect it? The Prophecy had been described as a Weapon – something Voldemort needed to defeat Harry. But what had it said that made any difference? There were no secrets in the Prophecy that explained how Voldemort could kill him. It just confirmed what Voldemort already knew – Harry was a threat to him and needed to be killed.

Harry staggered backwards as the shock of this latest realisation caused him to feel dizzy. Mr Weasley had almost died. And SIRIUS! Dumbledore had blamed himself for Sirius' death, but for the wrong reasons. There had been no need to defend the Prophecy at all. And Dumbledore knew it. Harry leant against the astronomy tower and sat down heavily next to Hermione who was hiding her face in her hands. And Harry saw that what she said was true. Dumbledore had been watching him all the time. There had always been people in the shadows watching everything. And the Prophecy proved it too. He was being kept alive because he was needed. Not because he mattered. He cradled his friend. His brave, clever, loyal friend who had lost so much and had borne her losses so silently and so bravely. And he had never felt more alone.

Gradually Hermione's sobs grew quieter. She leant against Harry and whispered "I should never have told you this".

"I had a right to know" replied Harry though privately he now felt some truths were so unbearable that lying may be the kinder option.

"No, you don't understand. Harry, Dumbledore has a plan involving you. I don't know what it is. I don't think anyone does. I hate him for what he has done to my family but I do believe all his actions are for the greater good. I think he thinks only he is clever enough, powerful enough, wise and insightful enough to get the wizard-world through the war. And y'know he might even be right. But secrecy has always been essential to the plan. Everything is on a strictly Need To Know basis. " Hemrione faltered. "And keeping things from you has always been especially important. Growing up I never understood why. But I think I do now."

"Why" said Harry dully. A few hours ago this would have triggered a furious demand for answers. Now he barely cared.

"Because Voldemort can read your mind!" said Hermione. "And you are rubbish at Occlumency! I think that as far as Dumbledore is concerned telling you us like telling HIM." She went white "Oh god what have I done," she muttered.

Harry felt shame flood through him. Snape's sneers echoed in his mind "discipline your mind!" he had demanded. But Harry had never really tried, never concentrated, never practiced. He had seen Snape's taunting as unnecessary bullying and had refused to learn this essential skill. Yes, bullying was probably part of it. But it also provided a great opportunity to control strong emotion. After all Voldemort would hardly treat him kindly. He had been repeatedly told, even by Sirius who had hated Snape every bit as much as Harry, how important it was – the most important thing to master for the whole year. Now the fact that one of Voldemort's trusted servants was in fact a spy might leak out of his untrustworthy feeble mind. He closed his eyes. Oh God don't let him be responsible for any more deaths. His parents & Sirius died protecting him. Cedric died because Voldemort wanted him. Hermione's father would die in service to the Plan which centred on him.

"I'm so sorry about your dad." Harry said gently. "But surely if he is in The Order he could go to Dumbledore, or even to Snape – he is said to be the best potions master Hogwarts ever had".

" He is not in The Order. He is in The Unseen. The Order don't know about his mission. To them he is a traitor so he can't get any help there. And anyway there is nothing Snape knows that he doesn't. The Unseen are the most talented witches and wizards of their generation. That's why they were recruited" replied Hermione sadly. Come on, let's go back. I'm freezing and I need a drink!

Harry and Hermione climbed to their feet. Hermione looked at him, worry and concern etched on her pale, drawn face.

"Are you going to tell Ron" she asked gently.

"Mr Weasley did not need to be attacked did he" – he suddenly understood why Hermione had been so confused and distressed by the precise wording of the prophecy. She had seen - far quicker than Harry (but that was no surprise) – that the prophecy had no useful information for Voldemort. Harry had been so horrified by the implications for himself, he had never really thought about what the prophecy would have meant to Voldemort.

Hermione shook her head. "Doesn't look like it".

"But why. WHY?" Harry asked. How could Dumbledore have placed his trusted loyal friends in such terrible danger.

"I don't know. But Harry I truly believe that Dumbledore is acting in the way he thinks most likely to secure victory from Voldemort. I just think he treats The Order a bit like he views the Auror Office. He'll let them do some useful jobs but he is not above manipulating them, lying to them or sending them off on red herrings if he thinks the overall Plan is better served that way'.

Harry knew immediately that he couldn't possibly burden Ron with this.

"No I won't tell Ron. I just can't."

"Welcome to Dumbledore's world" Hermione said slightly bitterly. "First rule of deception: The ability to ACT."

She smiled brightly at him. "Nice night for star-gazing" she said looking up at the beautiful canopy of stars glittering above them. Look you can see the Andromeda Galaxy really clearly.

Harry took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his own face: "And Hagrid is still in his Pumpkin patch" he said pointing out a large dark shape moving around outside the cosy looking hut.

"Well nice to have this little chat, but we need to get inside I think. Ron has a Potions essay he needs some help with" Hermione replied. Arm in arm they walked down the stairs back to the familiar safe comforts of the Gryfinndor common room.


End file.
